


Raoul and Christine Do Rap Battle

by thewriterofperfectdisasters



Series: Tiny Tumblr AUs [4]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: (i can't believe that's a fucking tag jfc), Alternate Universe, M/M, Rap Battles, Songfic, kinda???, ooc!mickey, or maybe just drunk!mickey??, this is so stupid omg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-18
Updated: 2015-06-18
Packaged: 2018-04-05 00:07:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4158141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewriterofperfectdisasters/pseuds/thewriterofperfectdisasters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hot dude coughed awkwardly and steered Mickey away from the centre of the dancefloor, towards the backdoor and outside. ‘You need some air.’<br/>‘Can it be from your lungs?’ Mickey whispered, looking up to hot dude and biting his lip suggestively. ‘Say I was to pass out, would you give me CPR?’</p>
            </blockquote>





	Raoul and Christine Do Rap Battle

**Author's Note:**

> i was in the mood to write but i didn't wanna write anything i'm already writing so i decided to write this stupid thing. also, it's like 2:30am and i can't be fucked editing it, so i'll probs do that tomorrow. apologies in advance for any glaring and annoying errors - entirely my own.
> 
> based off a point on [this](http://onetruepairingideas.tumblr.com/post/121635169984/ddaredevil-more-meet-weird-ugly-aus-you-sit) list.
> 
> (THIS TITLE IS SO STUPID IM LAUGHING TOO HARD FUCK)

Mickey hated being dragged to parties by Mandy. The parties weren’t that great, but they provided an opportunity for Mickey to sell weed to tipsy and/or completely pissed students, so most of the time he didn’t mind. He got cash, and Mandy got a safe walk home. Everyone wins.

But then Mandy told him that for once, _just once_ , he had to actually go to the party to _enjoy_ the party, and as unlikely as fuck as that seemed, because Mickey was older than all these fumbling idiots his sister hung out with, he agreed. Free booze, right?

Which was basically how Mickey ended up in a house full of teenagers, drinking all their alcohol, and putting himself in control of the music booming through the house.

He had no fucking clue who’s phone (iPod?) this was, but their music wasn’t bad, so he was running with it and DJing the shit outta the night.

‘Fuck yeah!’ Mickey cried, scrolling past a song, then quickly back up to select it. ‘This is my fuckin’ _jam_!’

‘Mick, how drunk are you?’ Mandy shouted from somewhere to his left.

‘What?’ he yelled back, turning up the volume dial and bopping his head with the violins.

‘Drunk! You! How much!’ Mandy repeated.

‘Who fuckin’ cares!’ Mickey said, spinning away from the radio and starting to yell at the crowd that had assembled around his makeshift DJ pit at some point.

_‘As I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I take a look at my life, and realise there’s nothin’ left! ‘Cause I been blastin’ and laughin’ so long that even my Mama thinks that my mind is gone but –’_

_‘I ain’t never crossed a man that didn’t deserve it. Me be treated like a punk, you know that’s unheard of!’_ Someone else started chanting, worming through the crowd and up towards Mickey. _‘You better watch out you talkin’, and where you walkin’, or you and your homies might be lined in chalk!’_

(Somewhere in the back of Mickey’s mind, his semi-dormant sex drive realised that this dude was pretty fucking fine, and that the rainbow lights bouncing around the room made this guy’s hair actually _red_.) (Or maybe he was a ginger, Mickey had no idea.) (Guy was hot, though.) Apparently hot dude was now waiting for Mickey to pick up the next line.

Mickey waited for the line to finish, and started up again with, _‘As they croak, I see myself in the pistol smoke, fool. I’m the kinda G the little homies wanna be like, on my knees in the night sayin’ prayers in the streetlight.’_

 _‘Been spending most their lives livin’ in the gangsta’s paradise,’_ hot guy, and most of the conscious people in the room, started singing. _‘Been spending most their lives livin’ in the gangsta’s paradise. Keep spending most our lives livin’ in the gangsta’s paradise, keep spending most our lives livin’ in the gangsta’s paradise!’_

Mickey laughed as the other guy grinned at him, while the assembled drunks cheered them on in their random little rap battle. Mickey was a bit reluctant to continue the song (even though he knew all the words – this song was kind of his anthem, really) but the enthusiasm and encouragement the other guy was giving him made the prospect a bit more appetising. _‘Look at the situation they got me facing,’_ Mickey continued, to the delight of their audience. _‘I can’t live a normal life, I was raised by the streets!’_

 _‘So I gotta be down with the hood team, too much television watching got me chasing dreams!’_ Hot dude cried, nodding at Mickey in a way that said _“let’s fucking do this”_.

They continued with their game, yelling lines at each other and singing the chorus with the crowd, and ended with a dramatic rendition of the voices at the end, Mickey and hot guy knelt on the floor, arms over each other’s shoulders, singing to the roof for all they were worth.

At the end of the song, as something new came on and people started singing something new ( _“Oh, well imagine, as I’m pacing the pews in a church corridor…”_ ), Mickey tipped his head back further and laughed loudly, tightening his grip on the other guy’s shoulder as he pushed himself back up onto unsteady feet.

‘Whoa,’ hot dude murmured, righting Mickey from where he had almost face planted the carpet. ‘You okay there?’

‘Me? _Fiiine_ ,’ Mickey grinned lazily, swatting at hot dude’s (rather firm) chest. ‘Fine as a fiddle.’

‘I think the expression is _fit_ as a fiddle.’

‘Well, I’m not fit. _You’re_ fit.’

Hot dude coughed awkwardly and steered Mickey away from the centre of the dancefloor, towards the backdoor and outside. ‘You need some air.’

‘Can it be from your lungs?’ Mickey whispered, looking up to hot dude and biting his lip suggestively. ‘Say I was to pass out, would you give me CPR?’

‘I would consider myself a decent guy, so yeah. I would,’ hot dude replied, unwrapping Mickey’s arm from his shoulder and lowering him to the steps outside. ‘Take some deep breaths, okay?’

‘I know something _else_ I’d like to take –’

‘ _Mickey!_ Oh my God,’ Mandy said, appearing from nowhere and peering at her brother’s face. ‘How drunk are you? Jesus, oh my God, Ian, I’m so sorry.’

‘It’s fine,’ hot dude (Ian?) smiled. ‘I figured I wouldn’t be a good sport if I didn’t take care of my rap battle opponent.’

Mandy laughed lightly and pulled Mickey up. ‘I think you’re a good sport for rap battling in the first place. Thanks for taking him out.’

‘It’s fine,’ Ian said again. ‘I should drag _my_ brother out.’

‘Good luck,’ Mandy said, beginning to haul Mickey away from Ian. ‘I’ll see you at school on Monday, right?’

‘Yep. Monday.’

‘Can I see you on Monday?’ Mickey asked, grabbing Ian’s hand and holding it to his face with a sigh.

‘Oh my God, he’s fucking wasted,’ Mandy groaned. ‘Like a prepubescent girl!’

‘Want me to help you get him home?’ Ian offered. ‘Lip probably won’t want to leave for a few more hours.’

Mandy nodded. ‘Sorry.’

‘Not a problem, Mands,’ Ian said, coming around to grab Mickey’s other arm. ‘Lead the way.’

‘Mm,’ Mickey hummed, his head lolling onto Ian’s shoulder. ‘You smell like candy. Man candy.’

‘That is the worst line I have ever heard,’ Mandy muttered, thankfully rounding the corner to the end of their street. (Never had she been so glad for such a short walk. She was going to die from second hand embarrassment before they arrived at their door.)

‘You are so beautiful,’ Mickey sang, looking adoringly up to Ian. ‘ _To me_.’

‘Jesus Christ,’ Mandy said, speeding them up a little.

‘You are so beautiful to me,’ Mickey repeated. ‘Can’t you _see_?’

‘Mandy,’ Ian asked quietly, while Mickey continued wailing between them. ‘You’re brother’s not gay, is he?’

‘Uh…’

‘You’re everything I hope for,’ Mickey cried. ‘Everything I _need_!’

‘Mandy?’

‘Well,’ Mandy looked to her brother and shrugged.

‘All I want is freedom, a world with no more night,’ Mickey sang, swaying gently into Ian and Mandy. ‘And you, always beside me, to hold me and to hide me.’

‘Yeah,’ Mandy muttered. ‘Kinda.’

Ian laughed. ‘Then say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime. Let me lead you from your solitude,’ he sang back, right as they reached the steps up to the Milkovich house.

Mickey’s eyes widened and a smile split his face as he looked up to Ian. ‘Raoul!’

‘God, help me get him into the house,’ Mandy said, starting to haul her brother up the steps. ‘Fucking lucky no one’s home.’

‘Love me, that's all I ask of you,’ Mickey sang, gripping Ian’s bicep and spinning around when they reached the living room of the Milkovich house, promptly falling onto his back and passing out.

 

* * *

 

When Mickey woke up the next day, all he could remember was snatches of music, and a lot of singing and… twirling?

‘Hey,’ someone said from Mickey’s doorway.

‘Fuck off,’ Mickey groaned, turning over and burying his face into his pillow.

‘Not what you were saying last night,’ the same person said.

‘What?’ Mickey rolled over to stare at the intruder in his doorway – a tall redhead with crumpled clothes and bedhair. ‘The fuck’re you?’

‘Raoul, apparently,’ the guy replied, raising an eyebrow. ‘My name’s Ian.’

‘Oh,’ Mickey nodded and shut his eyes again. ‘Oh, _oh._ ’

‘I loved your little impromptu performance of _Phantom_ by the way.’

‘Fuck you,’ Mickey muttered.

‘Maybe when you’re sober,’ Ian said, dropping a couple of pills and a glass of water onto the nightstand beside Mickey’s head. ‘For the hangover.’

‘Fuck off.’

‘I am, just getting my shoes.’

Mickey grunted and rolled away from the pills and water, falling back asleep before Ian had left his room.

 

* * *

 

‘Ian, someone at the door for you!’ Debbie yelled up the stairs.

‘What?’ Ian yelled back, trotting down from his bedroom and going to the open door. ‘Mickey Milkovich,’ Ian said, seeing his visitor and rolling his eyes. ‘What do you want?’

‘Mandy told me what happened last night, and what she said,’ Mickey started. ‘If you tell –’

‘I don’t care if you’re gay.’

‘I’m not –’

‘Don’t even try it,’ Ian shook his head. ‘What do you want?’

‘Uh…’ Mickey scratched the back of his neck. Threats had pretty much been the beginning and end of his plan. ‘That was kinda it.’

‘Great. Bye,’ Ian said, starting to shut the door.

‘Wait,’ Mickey said, putting his foot in the door, and mentally slapping himself. _What the fuck are you doing?_ ‘I’m sorry.’

‘So?’

‘For last night and just before. Mandy told me I tried to...’ Mickey flicked his eyes inside the Gallagher house for anyone who might be listening.

‘Tried to fuck me, yeah,’ Ian nodded. ‘My family doesn’t care if I’m gay, or you’re gay, or if _anyone_ is gay.’

‘Uh…’ Mickey sucked his bottom lip in between his teeth and thought up a game plan for his next question. ‘Wanna do it again?’ _Nice._

‘I’m sorry?’

‘Well, wanna…’

‘Fuck.’

‘Yeah.’

‘I can’t tell if this is a trick or not,’ Ian sighed. ‘But I don’t really care.’

‘Is that a yes?’

‘Promise not to kill me, okay?’ Ian said. ‘That’s all I ask of you.’

‘Ha-fucking-ha,’ Mickey rolled his eyes. ‘Promise.’

**Author's Note:**

> the songs/music:
> 
> gangsta's paradise - coolio feat. LV  
> you are so beautiful - joe cocker (probably covered by a fuckton of people but whatevs)  
> all i ask of you from phantom of the opera (i nearly went with masquerade but?? the lyrics?? i couldn't not)
> 
> [it me](http://im-not-his-keeper.tumblr.com/).
> 
> ~~this fic is so stupid what the fuck am i doing~~


End file.
